Tuesday, August 30, 2011
The shadows of the waning day gather
around my feet like an ebony cat, warm
and detached. It is done, this day, locked
in an enameled matchbox of memory.
This moment, this speck of infinity
before I become dreamless rest,
is but a part of the ordered day, a day
like all days, ordered and ordained.
A day begun with prayer must needs
end with prayer, another line of song,
another hymn, another cry of joy,
whispered praise in the chorus of creation.
This poem is submitted to Open Mike Night at dVerse Poets. To see more poems, please visit the site. The links will be live at 2 p.m. Central time today.
Photograph: Moon by Daniele Pellati via Public Domain Pictures. Used with permission.